


Pretty Tied Up

by rohruh



Series: Hurts So Good [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Derek wolfs out a little near the end, Dom Derek, Dom/sub, Gags, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking, Sub Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohruh/pseuds/rohruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Stiles just needs Derek to tie up him and spank him until everything else goes away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Tied Up

Stiles is antsy all throughout family dinner that night. And he’s quiet—too quiet. He won’t stop bouncing his leg underneath the table, to the point where Derek has to reach over and forcefully hold his leg down, claws digging into his thigh softly. The Sheriff and Scott both notice, too, sending Derek questioning glances, which he pointedly ignores.

Stiles hasn’t gotten like this in a while—not since he had trusted Derek enough to ask him for help dealing with it. Stiles is stubborn, though. He wants to do everything on his own terms, even if it means waiting for too long.

When Stiles reaches out for a second portion of green beans, resolutely ignoring his chicken nuggets, Derek decides that he’s had enough. Stiles fucking hates green beans. He avoids them like the plague.

“We’ll be right back,” he grunts to the rest of the table, lacing Stiles’ fingers with his own and pulling him up. He marches them out into the backyard and shut the door, crowding him against the wall and slipping a hand into his hair. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Stiles exhales slowly, doing his best to avoid eye contact. “Nothing is wrong. Let’s go back inside.”

Derek can smell the lie, even through the steady beat of his heart.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing,” Stiles responds with more bite this time. “Nothing is fucking wrong, Derek. Drop it. Drop it and leave me alone.” 

Derek sighs, closing his eyes. He cards his fingers through Stiles’ hair a few more times, and despite himself, Stiles leans into it.  

“I just want to help,” he tells him after a few more moments of silence. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I can deal with it myself,” Stiles responds. “You don’t always have to be my knight in shining armor. I’m a big boy. I can take care of it myself, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” 

He kisses him on his temple. 

They head back inside. Stiles doesn’t touch his food for the rest of the night, not even the chocolate cake that Melissa made for dessert. Derek doesn’t say anything. 

*** 

Stiles changes into a pair of Derek’s sweatpants and curls up in his reading nook as soon as they get home. He pulls out his iPad and starts tapping away furiously.

Derek tries to ignore it. He scoops the litterbox and vacuums their bedroom and goes for a run. When he gets back, Stiles is in the shower. 

“Is it okay if I join you?” he asks. The sweat cooling on his skin is starting to feel grimy. “I can wait until you’re done if you’d prefer.” 

“No,” Stiles sighs, motioning to the shower door. “Come on in. It’s fine.” 

Derek climbs in behind him. They stand under the spray silently for a couple of minutes. He traces the beauty marks on Stiles’ back with a bar of soap, breathes in his scent. He will never get sick of this. Happy Stiles, angry Stiles, idiotic Stiles throwing the N64 controller at his head when he beats him at Rainbow Road—he’ll take him in any shape or form. 

They don’t do anything sexual, just wash each other’s hair and cuddle. When their fingers start to prune they get out, toweling each other off. Stiles pulls Derek’s sweatpants back on with one of his old UCLA frosh week shirts. He goes quiet and jittery again, putting his reading glasses back on and climbing back into his nook. 

Derek pulls on his burgundy shirt with the thumb holes and a pair of black boxer briefs. It’s one of Stiles’ favorite shirts on him. He watches an old episode of Law and Order with the cat, trying not to think too much about anything. 

 _Are you coming to bed?_  He texts Stiles when the show is over. 

 _Not right now_ , comes the response. 

 _K. I’m going to sleep now. Love you._  

Stiles sends him a heart Emoji in response. 

Derek hates going to sleep on a bad note, but if Stiles doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t push it. 

He manages to fall asleep for a couple of hours before he’s awakened by Stiles climbing into the bed. Climbing into Derek’s side of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, wrapping himself around Derek like an octopus. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole.”

“I know,” Derek replies. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. It’s okay.” 

“I’ve just been really stressed. My thesis proposal is due soon and I have so much work to do but I can’t concentrate lately.” 

“It’s fine, Stiles. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now.” 

“I—I’m sorry. Sir.”

 _Ah_. There it is.

In an instant, Stiles is off the bed and kneeling on the floor, hands behind his back with his neck arched towards Derek submissively. His posture is perfect.

“What do you need, Stiles? Do you want to do a scene?” 

Stiles flushes. “I want you to spank me, Sir. Until everything else goes away.” 

Derek reaches down and palms his ass through the sweatpants. “Up you get, then. Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He grabs the cat and kicks her out of the room while Stiles arranges himself on the bed timidly. 

He seats himself beside Stiles and pulls him into a deep kiss. “Safe word?” 

“Wolfsbane, Sir.” 

“Good boy.” 

He’ll never tire of the way that Stiles’ eyes light up at the praise.

He slides Stiles’ lithe body across his lap and runs his hand down his back and up over the swell of his ass. 

“Please do it. I need it so badly. Please.”

Derek pulls the sweatpants down and rubs a palm over Stiles’ ass. “You’re going to count for me.”

The whimper Stiles lets out after the first smack makes Derek’s heart clench. “One. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good boy.” 

 _Smack_. “Two. Thank you, Sir.” 

Stiles is outright sobbing by number seven, hands clenched in the sheets and taking deep, calculated breaths. “Do you need me to take a break?” Derek asks him.

“No. Don’t stop. More, please. Harder. Green.” He arches over Derek’s lap so sweetly.

 _Smack_. “Eight. Thank you, Sir.” 

Derek starts alternating, left cheek then right cheek. He loves how Stiles’ ass is reddening, the heat radiating under his palm. He can smell how much Stiles has relaxed—how the tension is leaking out of his body, bit by bit. He can smell his arousal, too. 

“Twenty. Thank you, Sir.” 

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Derek decides. “You were so good for me. Such a good boy.”

Stiles is soft and pliant, his whole body flushed red. “Thank you, Sir.” 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Derek asks him.

Stiles nods eagerly. “Please.”

“Show me,” he says. 

Stiles scrambles off of Derek’s lap and arranges himself on the bed, arching his ass in the air and using his hands to spread himself open.

Derek can’t resist that. Normally he’d tease Stiles, make him beg for his cock and work himself open for Derek lewdly. Tonight isn’t the night for that.

He climbs overtop of Stiles with a soft growl and mouths along the back of his neck, sliding his cock along the cleft of Stiles’ ass lazily. 

“So pretty for me,” he whispers into his neck. “Do you want your gag?”

“Yes Sir,” Stiles nods enthusiastically against the sheets. Derek climbs off the bed and is back a moment later with a red ball gag.

"What's your safe word when your gag is in?"

"I snap my fingers two times, Sir."

“Such a good boy. Open up." Stiles' cheeks flush as he opens his mouth eagerly.

Once the gag is in place, Derek pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “Hands up towards the headboard.” He fastens them around Stiles’ wrists with a  _click_.

He grabs the lube that they keep beside the bed and opens Stiles up carefully, until he’s nice and ready for him. Stiles is doing his best to stay still, legs spread wide with his ass high in the air.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Derek tells him, “but I’m not going to touch your dick. You can get yourself off, but it will be on my cock alone.”

Stiles whimpers an affirmative around the gag.

Derek drapes himself over top of Stiles and slides in, doing his best to hold himself together. Stiles in this state could make him come in his pants from the image alone.

He sets a calculated rhythm, focusing on the sounds around him— the slap of skin against skin, the clink of the handcuffs against the headboard, the soft groans that Stiles is letting out with each exhale.

It’s too much, though, and within a few minutes he’s desperate to come, desperate to fuck deep into Stiles and fill him with it. Stiles is close, too, cock angry and red and leaking a steady stream of precome against the sheets.

“You ready for me to fuck my come into you, Stiles?”

Stiles mumbles a garbled ‘yes’ around the gag, fucking his own cock against the mattress in earnest.

Derek growls and fastens his teeth around the base of Stiles’ neck, sliding in deep one last time before his orgasm hits him. His cock pulses inside of Stiles for what feels like forever, a never ending orgasm wringing itself out of him. Stiles comes with a groan just as Derek finishes.

Once they’re both boneless and spent, Derek undoes the handcuffs and removes the gag, rolling them onto their sides so he can spoon behind Stiles.

“You were so good for me tonight,” he tells him.

“Thank you, Sir,” Stiles mumbles tiredly, his eyes drifting closed.

His eyes are still rimmed red, his mouth puffy and obscene, but he looks content and at peace, not an ounce of tension left in him. Derek lets him sleep and cards a hand through his hair while he watches him for a while longer. Once he’s ready, he gets up and runs a washcloth under warm water, wiping Stiles down with it. He soothes his ass with some lotion and then climbs back in bed, sliding in behind Stiles and wrapping his arms around him.

***

When he wakes up the next morning, Stiles is already up. Coffee is in the pot and turkey bacon is on the stove.

“I’ve had a breakthrough with my thesis,” Stiles rambles excitedly. “I finally figured out how to fix that stupid part that was bothering me so much. I’ve written ten pages this morning so far, Derek. Ten!”

He continues on enthusiastically, hands waving in the air as he talks a mile a minute.

Derek smiles into his cup of coffee.  _Good boy._

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](http://rohruh.tumblr.com)


End file.
